


As Good As The Real Thing

by literaryoblivion



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alive Hale Family, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - High School, Alternate Universe - Human, Boys Kissing, Dancing, First Kiss, Kissing, M/M, Masturbation, Sharing Clothes, Studying, Translation Available, Underage Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-20
Updated: 2014-07-20
Packaged: 2018-02-09 16:44:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,822
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1990218
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/literaryoblivion/pseuds/literaryoblivion
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He’s maybe had a crush on Stiles for going on two years now, but there’s no way he’s ever going to act on it or say anything. But, he's memorized all of Stiles's quirks and habits because he and Stiles have been in the same history class for two years now, and he always ends up sitting by him. However, he and Stiles have had limited interaction with one another, which is fine. Derek can subside on his daydreams of Stiles. He can live the rest of his high school career on his fantasies alone.</p><p>That is until their teacher assigns them to be partners for a project.</p>
            </blockquote>





	As Good As The Real Thing

**Author's Note:**

> So this was supposed to be a short ficlet for [Anne](http://babyhowlinforyou.tumblr.com/) but then my brain decided it needed to be longer. Oops.
> 
> Totes unbeta'd. Enjoy. :)
> 
> ETA: This story is now available in Hungarian! Click [HERE](http://fanfic.hu/merengo/viewstory.php?sid=117529).

He’s maybe had a crush on Stiles for going on two years now, but there’s no way he’s ever going to act on it or say anything. He’s just memorized the moles that dot Stiles’s face (and fantasized about where else they might be under his clothes) and the differences in Stiles’s laughs (because the one when he thinks something is really funny is a full body guffaw, and the one when he just finds something amusing is a melodic chuckle). He’s memorized the way Stiles sticks out his tongue while he’s concentrating, or how his hair sticks up in certain ways when he’s running his hand through it when he’s stressed.

Okay, so maybe he’s spent a little too much time memorizing all of Stiles’s quirks and looks. But he and Stiles have been in the same history class for two years now, and he always ends up sitting by him. He can’t help it. History is his subject, and so he always finishes his work before the bell rings, and to pass the time he kind of sort of just stares at Stiles.

He’s never actually, really, seriously talked to Stiles though. They’ve said hi, or more like nodded at each other, passed each other handouts or something, but that’s it. Stiles is on the lacrosse team, and Derek’s on the basketball team, and everyone knows those two sports don’t mix. But because basketball winds down around when lacrosse is starting up, they do run into each other in the locker room occasionally (where there’s more grunts of hello and nodding). And it’s enough interaction to satisfy Derek (because there’s no way he’s following through with his feelings to possibly get rejected).

That is until in class their teacher assigns them to be partners for a project.

Stiles scoots his desk over closer to Derek’s and gives him a smile. “Looks like it’s you and me.”

“It seems that way yes,” Derek says, flat, mainly to keep the rushing, excited nervousness he’s feeling inside.

Stiles frowns a little at that. “Uh, so when do you want to get together? She said we’re covering the New Deal, right?”

Derek nods. “I don’t have practice after school tomorrow, do you?”

“Nope. Lacrosse practices don’t start up for another week.”

“Tomorrow after school then?”

“Sounds good. Where do you want to meet?”

“My house? If you want? Or we could go to yours? Or the library?” Derek is blurting out places now because he feels like starting with his house first might seem too eager.

Stiles chuckles (his melodic one). “We can go to your place. Let me double check with my dad to make sure it’s cool? Here,” Stiles digs his phone out of his pocket and messes with it a little before handing it to Derek. “Give me your number and I’ll text you when I get the okay.”

Derek nods distractedly and tries to concentrate on being cool and nonchalant while putting in his phone number. When he’s through, he hands the phone back to Stiles, and then the bell rings.

“Thanks,” Stiles says getting up from his desk and slinging his backpack over his shoulder. “My next class is on the other side of the school, so I gotta go. See ya later, Derek!”

All Derek can do is stare after him as Stiles practically runs out of the room. He slowly gathers his things because his next period is lunch, which he usually spends in the library or outside, so there’s no need for him to hurry.

When he gets to his favorite spot in the library, he feels his phone buzz in his pocket. It’s a text from an unknown number.

**Hey! This is Stiles. :) I realized i didn’t give u my #**

**OH btw i txted my dad. We’re on 4 tmrrw!**

Derek saves Stiles’s number to his contacts then texts back:

_Sounds good. Meet me outside the gym tomorrow after school?_

**OK. crap i should prolly pay attn in class now.**

_Uh probably._

**It’s ur fault.**

_Mine? Why is that?_

**Cause u keep txtin**

_So do you._

**Stop distracting me! ;P**

Derek rolls his eyes at his phone and puts it away, his lips curled up a little. Was Stiles flirting? Was that what that winky emoticon thing was? Ugh working on this with Stiles was going to be difficult. He had it so bad for Stiles, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep it in, especially not if Stiles was flirting and was going to keep doing it.

~

Stiles and Derek only shared history together, and since they only had it every other day, Derek didn’t see him again until they were meeting after school. He is waiting by the doors to the gym, letterman’s jacket on, backpack on one shoulder, trying to look as cool and calm as he could. In truth, he had been anxious all day. Luckily, he and Stiles would have the house to themselves for a few hours before his parents came home, and his siblings either had work or other extracurriculars that would keep them away.

It’s not that he didn’t love his family, but they could be kind of overwhelming. Plus he knew they would all bother he and Stiles, and they were supposed to be working on this project. Their teacher only gave them two weeks to finish it. With practice and games and lacrosse for Stiles starting, he wasn’t sure how often they’d get to meet after this to complete their assignment.

After checking his phone for the fifth time, he looks up to see Stiles walking down the hall towards him. He is in a red zip-up hoodie and jeans, and even from here Derek can see those jeans are tight.

“Hey, sorry I’m late,” Stiles says as he approaches Derek. “I forgot my book in my locker and had to go back to get it.”

Derek shrugs. “It’s fine. Uh, you drive right?” Even though he knows for a fact Stiles drives a blue jeep to school every day (that it’s not broken down and in the shop).

“Yep. I parked by you today actually.” Stiles gives him a wide smile and wink.

Derek’s eyebrows rise. “You know what car I drive?” Stiles knows his car?!

“Of course.” Stiles rubs the back of his neck. “I mean who doesn’t know that you drive that black Camaro?”

“Oh,” he says, shoulders slumping. “Right. So, I guess just follow me?”

“Aye, aye, Captain,” Stiles says, giving him a salute. He swings open the doors to walk outside, and Derek follows after. Sure enough, the blue jeep and black camaro are only a few spaces apart in the parking lot. Usually he gets to school early enough to get a good spot, which means Stiles must have gotten there just as early to get one so close.

He gets to his car first and starts the engine, watching through his window as Stiles gets in his own car and starts it. He pulls out, and Stiles follows him all the way back to his house.

~

“I didn’t realize you lived so far out,” Stiles says once they are parked and walking up the steps to his house.

“It’s not too bad. It’s nice to have so much space.” Derek fishes his keys out and unlocks the door, holding it open for Stiles to come in after him.

“Nice house,” Stiles says, looking around at everything. He walks over to the wall lined with family photos, staring at each one. “Are all the Hales attractive?” Stiles mumbles, but Derek definitely catches it.

“What?” he says, ears red, because does that mean Stiles thinks he’s attractive?

“Your family seems nice,” Stiles says.

“Uh, yeah. Mostly. So uh, you hungry? Or want something to drink?” Derek offers.

“I’ll take a water, and if you make something I am totally okay with sharing.” Stiles wiggles his eyebrows.

“Okay, um, kitchen’s in here,” Derek says tilting his head in the direction. He opens the fridge and pulls out the leftover pizza his family had last night. He sets it on the counter in front of Stiles where he’s leaning on his elbows staring at him. He pulls out a couple glasses from the cupboard and fills them both with ice and water.

“So I kind of looked over some things in the book, but you’re the history whiz, so maybe you should explain it to me,” Stiles says, grabbing a slice from the tupperware and taking a bite.

“History whiz?”

“Duh. I see your grades on those quizzes sometimes. You always get A’s, don’t even front, and Mrs. Morris adores you, which she only gets like that for her star students.”

Derek’s ears and cheeks redden, and he shrugs. “I’m not a star student. I got a B on the last quiz.”

Stiles rolls his eyes. “Oh, a B! That’s terrible, Derek. I can’t believe I’m partners with you!” he says it super sarcastic and mocking. He punches Derek in the shoulder to get him to look at him. Derek looks up finally, and Stiles laughs.

“You’re such a dork,” Stiles says with a shake of his head, and his voice sounds almost fond.

“Whatever,” Derek huffs, stuffing more cold pizza in his mouth. He and Stiles finish their slices, and he silently asks if Stiles wants anymore by holding up the container. Stiles shakes his head, so Derek closes it up and puts it back in the fridge.

“Do I get to see the famous Derek Hale bedroom now?” Stiles asks, wiggling his eyebrows again.

“My bedroom is not famous, Stiles.”

“Maybe it is to some people,” Stiles mutters.

Derek isn’t sure how to take that statement, and he’s blushed enough for one day, so he trudges past Stiles with his glass and backpack and heads up the stairs. He doesn’t look back to see if Stiles is following because he knows he is.

He had expected Stiles, so his room is not nearly the disaster it had been the day before (because he totally spent way too long trying to make it look presentable). He throws his backpack on his bed, sets his glass on the nightstand and plops down on his bed, waiting for Stiles to catch up.

“Hm,” Stiles says after he’s surveyed the room.

“What? Told you it was nothing ‘famous’ or anything all that special. It’s just a room.”

“Shh, Derek, you’re destroying my fantasy.”

Derek’s mouth falls open in shock. “You’ve fantasized about being in my room?”

This time Stiles blushes. “What? No. That’s not what I said.” He clears his throat. “We going to get started on this project or what?”

Derek narrows his eyes, but he doesn’t push the subject. He pulls out a stack of papers and a few books from his backpack and hands the papers to Stiles.

“Here, I found some stuff at the library today that might be helpful. You look through these and see if you find anything, and I’ll look through these,” Derek says holding up the books. “If you don’t understand something, ask me and I’ll try to explain.”

Stiles nods and pulls out Derek’s computer chair to take a seat. They work in silence, aside from the turning of pages and the sound of Stiles highlighting stuff on the papers Derek had printed out. Although, Derek gets distracted occasionally because Stiles keeps the highlighter cap in his mouth.

After a while, he can tell Stiles is getting antsy, because he won’t stop looking over at Derek and he keeps bouncing his leg, which makes his chair squeak.

“What is it?” Derek asks when he can’t take it anymore.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“No, but you look like you’re ready to jump out the window.”

Stiles snorts. “I’m so bored. I can only concentrate for so long, dude. How can you even do this?”

“Practice,” Derek deadpans.

“Come on, I say we take a break, do something. Stretch our legs, you know?” Stiles stands from the desk chair.

“Like what?”

“I don’t know. Uh, what kind of music do you like?”

Derek lifts an eyebrow, confused at Stiles’s change in subject. “Classical mostly, unless my sisters force me to listen to whatever they want when they are in the car with me.”

Stiles scrunches his nose. “Classical? Seriously? You can’t really rock out to classical.”

“Who says I want to rock out?”

“Me.” He pulls out his phone and starts playing some song Derek’s never heard of, but it has a nice beat, he’ll admit that. “Come on, we’re shaking our thang, get the wiggles out.” He holds out his hand for Derek, and when Derek doesn’t move, Stiles yanks on his arm to get him up.

“I don’t have the wiggles,” Derek says.

“Humor me,” Stiles says, stepping back from Derek to turn up the sound on his phone. He starts bouncing around the room, shaking his arms, gyrating his hips, and it’s mesmerizing. “Come on, Derek, it’s fun.”

Derek steps from side to side, but he doesn’t really know what else to do. Stiles seems to let his body flow so well to the rhythm, and it’s beautiful how he can make it seem so easy to move like that. Stiles quickly realizes that Derek is in the same spot he left him in and sighs. He unzips his hoodie, peels it off, and throws it over the back of the computer chair. He takes Derek’s hands and pulls him so he’s more in the center of the room.

“You gotta do more than just step side to side,” Stiles says, letting Derek’s hands drop to his sides. “You gotta get your whole body into it. It’s all in the hips,” Stiles says, resting his hands on Derek’s hips, putting pressure on one side or the other to the beat to get Derek to swing his hips from side to side.

His face must be beet red, but Derek ignores it and instead tries to concentrate on following Stiles’s directions rather than the warm pressure of Stiles’s hands on his body.

“That’s it,” Stiles says, grinning as he bobs his head to the beat of the music, still keeping his hands on Derek’s waist as the both move side to side. “Ok, time to get out of that spot. Jump around a little, move your hands and arms.”

“I… I feel silly,” Derek says after trying to jump and do as Stiles asked.

“Why? I’m doing the same thing. No one’s around. It’s just me.”

Derek thinks, yeah, that’s exactly my point, but nods trying to copy Stiles’s moves around his room. Occasionally Stiles will circle around him, or pull on his arms to get him to move them or his shoulders. Every time he gets closer, though, Derek can feel his face heat up. Stiles doesn’t seem to have a problem with touching Derek, grabbing his hands, touching his waist. He knows he probably looks like an idiot shuffling around in his room bouncing and trying to keep to the beat, keep up with Stiles, but Stiles just laughs or sings along to the song, smiling the entire time.

The song, which was incredibly long now that Derek thinks about it, switches to another one that’s slower paced, and he hadn’t realized it before but he and Stiles are standing very close to one another. Both of them are breathless and a little sweaty.

“Sorry, I have it on shuffle,” Stiles says when they both stop moving to realize the new tempo. “I can change it, or we can stop. We don’t have to keep dancing if you don’t want.”

“No, it’s fine. This song is… nice.”

Stiles quirks one corner of his lips up. “Yeah.” He takes a step closer to Derek, firmly in his space. He looks up through his eyelashes. “Yeah, it is.” He trails his fingertips down Derek’s arm until he reaches his palm, and it tingles all the way down. Stiles laces their fingers together and steps even closer so they are pressed up against one another, and Derek is frozen.

He loves it, loves having Stiles so close to him, but he doesn’t know what to do or what this means. Has Stiles always liked him? Is this just for fun for him? He’s about to ask when he hears the front door to his house slam shut and his mother calls out to him.

“Derek! Honey, we’re home!” his mom shouts up the stairs.

He and Stiles jump apart at the yell, and whatever moment or potential moment he just had with Stiles is ruined.

Stiles lets out a nervous laugh and runs his hand over his face. He reaches around Derek for his phone to turn off the music.

“Oh, shit, it’s later than I thought. I better get home,” Stiles says, slipping his phone into his jeans pocket and gathering his school things into his backpack.

“Uh, okay.” He stands awkwardly as he watches Stiles slip on his shoes and collect his things.

His mom calls up again, “We brought home dinner, so come eat. Is your friend staying?”

Stiles swings open the door before Derek can answer his mom. Derek quickly trails after him down the stairs.

“Oh, thanks, Mrs. Hale, but I gotta get home.”

“Of course, dear,” Mrs. Hale says. “It’s Stiles, right? The Sheriff’s son?”

“Yup,” Stiles says with a smile. “That’s me.”

Mrs. Hale nods. “Well you’re more than welcome to come over or stay for dinner any time.”

“Thank you.”

Mrs. Hale gives Derek a smile and wink (that thankfully Stiles doesn’t see because he’s walking to the front door) and leaves for the kitchen. Derek ignores his mom and meets Stiles at the door.

“Uh, sorry we didn’t get much done,” Stiles says, dangling his keys from his fingers.

“That’s okay. I’ll see what you highlighted and we can talk about it tomorrow in class?”

“Yeah, cool. See you tomorrow,” Stiles says. He gives Derek a wave and steps out onto the porch. Derek watches Stiles drive away before closing the door to face his family.

“So  _that_  was  _Stiles_?” Laura says when he gets into the kitchen, a teasing smile on her face.

“Don’t even start, Laura,” Derek warns, taking a seat at the table where dinner, barbeque this time, is spread out.

“I didn’t start anything. I was just asking a question,” Laura huffs, pulling out a chair for their little brother to hop on before sitting in her own.

Their mother sighs, “Please eat, and leave some for Dad and Cora. And Derek, Stiles seems very nice… and cute.”

Derek groans, “Ugh, mom!” Laura snickers into her hand.

Mrs. Hale smiles. “I was only making an observation.” Now he knows where Laura gets it from.

He spends the rest of dinner refusing to talk anymore about Stiles or school, which is fine because his other siblings talk enough for everyone at the table. By the time his Dad and little sister Cora walk in, they’ve forgotten about Stiles.

After clearing the table and putting away the leftovers, Derek trudges back up to his room to finish the homework that’s due tomorrow and maybe cipher through Stiles’s notes on their project. He glances down at his phone that’s laying on his bed (it must have fallen out while he had been studying with Stiles), and he sees he has messages. He unlocks his phone to read them and realizes they are all from Stiles.

**Hey! Sorry I just left like that**

**Had to get home 2 make sure my dad ate something healthy**

**he likes to cheat when i’m not there**

**not that you care… idk why i’m telling u all this**

**ummm**

**Oh yeah! I think I left my hoodie in ur room?**

**Can u bring it tmrrw?**

Derek giggled at the text messages. He slid his eyes over to his desk and saw Stiles’s hoodie draped over the chair. He texted back to respond to the last message.

_Yeah. I have it. I’ll give it to you in class._

**Awesome! Want 2 meet after school tmrrw 4 our project?**

_I have practice._

**After practice? My dad’s working a night shift, so u can come over 2 my house when ur done?**

_Yeah, I can do that._

**Great! Ok. I’ll c u tmrrw. Don’t 4get the hoodie!**

**It’s my favorite. :)**

_I won’t. See you._

**Night, Derek! :)**

_Good night._

And there Stiles goes again with the emoticons. Is he just being friendly or is it more? Although he and Stiles almost had… well he didn’t know what it was or could have been, but it did confuse him. Derek tries to push his thoughts of Stiles aside and focus on the homework he needs to finish.

It’s late, his family already in bed by the time he completes his work. He gathers up all of his books and school things and shoves them in his backpack. He also gathers up the printouts Stiles had been looking at earlier from his desk and stuffs them in his backpack, too. He goes to do the same for Stiles’s hoodie so he won’t forget it, but when he picks it up, it feels soft and warm in his hands.

He brings it up to his nose, and it smells so much like Stiles. It smells good. He thinks of how Stiles looks in it, him running in it, or hugging Derek in it. Stiles had said it was his favorite, so Stiles probably wears it almost everywhere.

Derek sets it down on his bed so he can take off his shirt. He takes off his pants as well so he’s only in his boxers. He picks up Stiles hoodie again and holds it to his chest, ducking his head down to smell it again. He opens it up, lets it hang from his hands in front of him. He has the briefest thought that he shouldn’t continue, that he should put it away in his backpack and go to sleep, but he can’t help it.

He puts it on; he doesn’t zip it because he knows it would stretch it out even more than it already is. He can feel the material tight across his broad shoulders, broader than Stiles’s. He smells the sleeve and wraps his arms around himself. If he thinks hard enough, closes his eyes to picture it, it’s almost like having Stiles there with him. That it’s Stiles’s arms wrapped around him, keeping him close. He pulls the hood over his head and turns his face to smell the fabric. He can tell why Stiles says this is his favorite. It’s soft, the fabric well-worn, and comfortable. He lays out on his bed, the hood still on, his fingers playing with the hem of the sleeves, running over the fraying fabric where Stiles’s own fingers have worn it down, pulled at loose threads.

He lets his hand travel down his chest, his stomach, and underneath his boxers. The fabric of the sleeve rubs against his skin, and it feels nice. He pictures it being Stiles’s hand and fingers running over his cock, stroking it until it gets hard. He imagines Stiles’s pink lips, wet and swollen from kissing him, open on a moan when Derek runs his own hand over Stiles’s cock. He thinks of those same lips around his cock, thinks of the tongue that always darts out to lick Stiles’s lips out of habit running along the vein of Derek’s cock, licking under the head, along the slit.

His own hand slides up and down faster and faster along his cock as he turns his head again to smell Stiles’s hoodie, getting his scent as he continues to imagine different scenarios with Stiles: Stiles wearing nothing but the hoodie as he sinks down onto Derek’s cock to ride him; Stiles moaning Derek’s name over and over again until he comes on nothing but Derek’s fingers in him; Stiles sucking and biting along his neck and torso; Stiles whispering in his ear how much he loves him, how good he looks, how much he wants Derek, how much he needs him and only him.

Derek quickly brings his free arm to his mouth and bites down around the sleeve to muffle the cry as he comes. He tries his best not to get anything on Stiles’s hoodie, but he’s worried it might have gotten on the cuff of the sleeve. He looks, but it’s dark, only the light of the moon just barely peeking through the blinds. He thinks it might be okay, so he pushes it up his arm and grabs his discarded shirt from earlier off the floor and cleans himself off.

He has the thought again that he should take off the hoodie, put it away, but he’s sleepy and tired, and ends up falling asleep wearing it, drifting off to thoughts of Stiles lying next to him, arms around his waist, warm breath against his neck as they both fell asleep.

~

The next day in class, Stiles is already in his seat next to Derek when he walks in. Derek sits at his desk, pulls out his books and Stiles’s hoodie and tosses it over to him. Stiles is already wearing a different hoodie, so he smiles and says thanks before he shoves it in his backpack. Derek is grateful for that because he doesn’t want to have to think about what he did last night in Stiles’s hoodie while he’s sitting next to him wearing it.

The class is boring as usual, but the teacher gives them the last few minutes to discuss their projects before the bell rings. They spend the last few minutes discussing what they will look up, and Stiles says he’ll start a powerpoint when he gets home with what they have so far while he waits for Derek to finish practice. He texts Derek his address and when the bell rings, Stiles books it like he did before but waves goodbye with a promise to see him later.

~

When Derek pulls up to the house and waits for Stiles to answer the door, he hasn’t even thought about last night’s events until Stiles opens the door wearing his favorite hoodie, a sly grin on his face.

“Hey,” Stiles says, opening the door wider for Derek to step through.

“Hey,” Derek says again, trying to remain calm, but the way Stiles is looking at him is unnerving.

“My room’s upstairs,” Stiles says, already heading up the stairs, expecting Derek to follow. He of course does.

Stiles’s room is nice, bigger than his, plus he has a television in his room, which must be nice. It’s not at all what he pictured Stiles’s room to look like, and when he thinks that he remembers Stiles’s comment from a few days ago about Stiles saying a similar thing about his room. Stiles is laying on his side on his bed, his head propped up on his hand, still grinning as Derek walks in.

“Uh, you have a nice set up,” Derek says, nodding his head in the direction of the TV and video game console and games.

“Oh, thanks. You should totally come over and play sometime. The graphics on the new Assassin’s Creed are pretty awesome.” Stiles sits up from the bed. Derek figures he’ll take Stiles’s desk chair like Stiles had in his own room, but when he makes his way over to it, Stiles hops up from the bed and lands spinning in the computer chair. He mentally rolls his eyes and sits on the edge of Stiles’s bed. Stiles is acting weird, and it’s making Derek nervous.

“Sorry, I forgot I was going to show you the powerpoint I started,” Stiles says with a shrug. Derek nods and stands up to look over Stiles’s shoulder. He waits and hums agreement when Stiles opens it and clicks through the slides he has so far.

“So far so good,” Derek says, not realizing he’s leaning forward, his hand on the back of Stiles’s chair for balance.

“Thanks,” Stiles says, turning his head to look back at Derek, and his face is so close. He catches Stiles look down at his lips and back up before Derek backs up and uprights himself.

He clears his throat. “I, uh,  have some more things I found at the library during lunch today,” Derek says walking back to his backpack on Stiles’s bed.

“Uh, Derek?” Stiles says, making Derek turn around, and when did Stiles get up from the chair? Stiles is standing in front of him, only a foot away. He’s playing with the sleeve of his hoodie, and Derek immediately thinks of when he did the same thing the night before. He hopes he’s not blushing.

“Yeah?’

“Can I ask you something?”

“Uh…. yes?”

“Did you…” Stiles takes a step forward. “I won’t be mad, I promise, but… did you try on my hoodie?”

Derek’s eyes widen, and he knows for sure his face is red. Stiles holds up his hands and takes a few steps forward, like he’s trying to keep Derek from leaving. “I only ask because I noticed it’s a little loose in the shoulders and it…,” Stiles looks down, rubs the back of his neck, “it kind of smells a little like you.”

“It does? I… uh….” He thinks maybe he should make up something, say it was in his room, in his backpack, so it’d make sense. But then, that wouldn’t explain it being stretched out. Derek is flustered and embarrassed, and he’s not sure if Stiles is acting calm and shy for Derek’s benefit or not.

Stiles looks up through his eyelashes and steps even closer to Derek, close enough to touch. “I… like it, actually.”

Derek’s eyebrows raise. “You… you do?”

Stiles nods, a small smile growing on his face. “I do. Although…” Now, he’s so close that he can feel the warmth of Stiles’s body. “It’s not quite fair…”

“Fair?” Derek chokes out his voice high because as much as he’d like to think he could be really calm about this, he’s kind of freaking out that Stiles is very much coming on to him and everything he’s imagined about him and Stiles might actually be happening.

Stiles slides a hand up along Derek’s chest, over his jacket, which he hasn’t taken off yet. He plays with the collar of Derek’s letterman jacket when he nears the top, running the pads of his fingers up and down the edge, occasionally brushing the skin of his neck. “I think I should get to wear something of yours now.”

“Okay,” Derek breathes out, not quite knowing what he just agreed to.

“Really?” Stiles whispers, moving his hand up from his collar to his neck, their chests pressed up against each other. “You’d let me wear your jacket? At school? At home? In bed?” His voice gets quiet on the last sentence.

Derek bobs his head because he can’t seem to find the words. Stiles wants to wear his jacket? At school? Where everyone would know it’s his, that Stiles is his? His mind goes to Stiles doing the same thing he had done with Stiles’s hoodie, wearing only his jacket while he touched himself.

Stiles leans in close to his ear, his warm breath ghosting over the lobe, causing Derek to shiver. “Did you picture me while you wore it?”

“Yes.” Derek doesn’t see the point in trying to pretend he didn’t do what Stiles suspects he did. Stiles seems to be into it.

“Was it nice?” He runs his nose along the edge of Derek’s ear, and Derek wants to bring his hands up to hold Stiles, grip his waist, but he doesn’t.

“No,” Derek quickly adds, “it still wasn’t real. It wasn’t you.”

Stiles pulls back from Derek’s ear, cups his face with a palm. “I’m here now. Show me.” He takes one of Derek’s hands that clenched in a fist at his side and brings it up so that Derek’s palm is flat against Stiles’s side. Out of reflex, Derek grips the material of Stiles’s clothes like he can’t decide between pulling Stiles forward or keeping him back.

“Stiles.”

“Please, Derek? I want to know. Did it start like this?” Stiles asks, leaning forward, his lips so close to Derek’s that Derek can feel his breath against his lips. He waits for Derek to pull back, to push him away, but of course that is the last thing Derek wants to happen.

In fact, it’s Derek who closes the distance between them and kisses Stiles.

It’s so much better than he had imagined. Stiles’s lips are soft, and they seem to fit perfectly with his. In an instant Stiles kisses back, his hand moving from Derek’s face to his hair, his other hand gripping Derek’s jacket again like he doesn’t want Derek to pull away. As if he would.

He braves licking at Stiles’s lips, and Stiles opens his mouth when he does, sliding his own tongue against Derek’s. It’s hot, and he can feel his pants growing tighter. He pulls away before they get carried away because as much as he likes Stiles and wants to do that with him, god does he want to, he thinks that might be too much too soon right now.

Stiles lets out a whine and pouts when Derek breaks the kiss. He slowly opens his eyes to look up at Derek.

“Yes,” Derek says, “It did start like that.”

Stiles lips curl up. “Do I get to know how it ended?”

“Maybe. Later. We do still have a project to do.”

Stiles huffs. “Fine. But you are going to tell me. And I so get to wear your jacket to school tomorrow.”

Derek chuckles, leans forward to give Stiles a peck on the lips. “Fine by me.”

“Go get your notes, nerd,” Stiles says, pushing Derek away.

Instead of in separate places, Stiles curls up next to Derek on the bed, their shoulders pressed against each other while they go over notes and discuss their project. Stiles does get distracted here and there and tries to kiss Derek again, and Derek lets him; however, he does bring them back to their homework eventually.

~

The next day at school when he sees Stiles in his jacket in the hallway, he smiles, a weird sense of pride and possessiveness washes over him at the sight. And when Stiles sees him and strides right up to him, pushing past the crowd, and kisses him squarely on the lips, he doesn’t hear the catcalls and jeers because all he can think about is the fact that Stiles is in his arms kissing him and it’s not in his head.

The two years’ worth of build-up and daydreams is nothing compared to the real thing.

And that doesn’t go for just the kissing.

**Author's Note:**

> ETA: The lovely [Megan](http://mianewarcher.tumblr.com/) drew art to go with this fic!! Check it out [here](http://thisisformynaughtyshit.tumblr.com/post/92350717617/prompts-for-literaryoblivion-fic-as-good-as-the) (NSFW).
> 
> Come say hi on [my tumblr](http://literaryoblivion.tumblr.com) or [my twitter](http://twitter.com/lit_oblivion).


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